Sacrifice
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. "Greater love has no one than this..." Brotherly love, not Elricest, no way no how.


**Author's Note: One day, I felt overwhelmed by the sheer selfless love of the Elric brothers (something that happens to me every now and then). I _had_ to write something about the way they sacrifice everything for each other. So I wrote this, hoping I could incorporate it into my long fic _A Hundred Ways to Say You're My Brother_ somehow, but none of the themes fit. So I finally decided that this would have to stand on its own.**

My brother knows about sacrifice. "To obtain, something of equal value must be lost." Sometimes, he seems to embody the concept of sacrifice.

The biggest obstacle to overcome when learning alchemy is the sacrifice, the equivalent trade, necessary for a transmutation to be successful. If you don't understand how much material and energy the transmutation requires, your transmutation will be ineffective or, even worse, a rebound of the expended energy will harm you. Our alchemy teacher warned us of this early on in our training, and I think my brother grasped the concept much more completely than I did. Oh, of course I could rattle off the Principle of Equivalent Trade quick as you please. But some part of me still looked at alchemy as fairy magic that could grant your every wish. I was so naïve, thinking everything would somehow turn out all right.

My brother thought it would work, too, but he knew there would be a sacrifice involved. He thought he had gathered all the materials we needed, led the bull to the altar to appease the call for blood. So when our human transmutation failed, I was devastated and scared, like the bewildered child I was. But my brother knew what to do. He knew we just needed to give up something more precious than a pile of elements.

Sometimes I tremble with fear, wondering what would have happened if he had been the one to lose his body. Would I have known what to do? Would I have been able to make that sacrifice? "Thank heaven for small blessings," Mom used to say. The only times I'm truly thankful I lost my body are when I remember what my brother sacrificed for me.

Often, in the long lonely nights, I look over at my sleeping brother and marvel over all the things he's done for me. He sacrificed his arm to bring my soul back. He can often hide his automail leg, the sign of what he had to pay for his mistake. But everyone sees his automail arm. Every time his sleeve gets pushed up the tiniest bit, the sign of his selflessness is there for all to see. When he lost his leg, it was out of ignorance; how could he know what would happen if he attempted human transmutation? But when he gave up his arm, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He made a willing sacrifice...for me.

My brother beats himself up over what happened. The first thing that came out of his mouth when I opened my eyes in this empty body was, "I'm sorry. With just my arm, I could only bring back your soul." As if he was expected to give up more. As if I wouldn't be dead if he hadn't done something.

And now he sacrifices even more. He gave up the opportunity to live a quiet, mostly comfortable life. He let his name be soiled. He daily sacrifices his time, energy, and resources to find a way to get me completely back. And he does it willingly, with a smile and a shrug as if to say, "What else could I do?"

Sometimes I just feel so selfish next to him.

I marvel at my brother, wondering how on earth I could be so important to him that he would give up this much for me. But then some days he starts drifting off. He'll look speculatively at his left arm, or say softly that one person equals one person, so wouldn't it make sense if...

He never completes that sentence, but I know what he's thinking. Time is running out. My armor might reject my soul any minute, and we never seem to get any closer to solving this conundrum. So my brother is thinking about sacrificing himself, his whole self, for me. One time, after almost an hour of silence, a mirthless smile erupted on my brother's face and he said viciously, "That would be enough to impress even the Truth." He wouldn't tell me what he meant, but I could guess what he had been thinking about.

My brother somehow thinks that death can equal life. He can't seem to get it through his thick skull that if the living can't bring back the dead, there's no way the dead could bring life either. He doesn't seem to realize that life begets life, love begets love, hate begets hate, and death can only beget death. If he gives up his life for me, part of me will die with him – a large part, the most important part.

My brother's always had a flair for extravagance. All or nothing, that's Edward Elric. He always wants to be the best, make the most impressive things, act out the part of a hero. He's ready to give up everything in one brilliant transmutation, like a spark that flares brightly before it goes out. I just wish he could see that a sacrifice of death is nothing compared to the sacrifices he makes every day he's alive.


End file.
